UPON THE MARRIAGE OF Prince George of Denmark WITH THE LADY ANNE: And his being Installed Knight of the Garter.  
A Pindaric POEM.  
 gaudent pater AEneas & avunculus Hector.  Virg. 

I.  
ALmighty Love! who can thy Ways define?  
Thou small Intreaguing God, thou'rt all Design;  
Thy Quiver and thy Darts are farther known  
Than the gay wand'ring Bow which in the Clouds is shown;  
Thou keep'st the Gods themselves in awe  
By thy Universal Law.  
Jove, though amidst his stores of Rain and Hail,  
Against thy Secret Flames can nought prevail;  
Thou breakest through his Guards, and with thy Dart  
Dost pierce the groaning Monarch to the Heart.  
Neptune, though all around with Waves oppressed,  
Yet by the Ocean finds his Love increased,  
Like Water which on Fire's cast.  
Nay, thou beyond the Tropics canst approach,  
Where Sol in all his Journey dare not touch,  
Let it be Torrid, or the Frigid Zone,  
There an Empire thou dost own,  
Which would both Temperate be,  
Were it not, bold God, for Thee.  
Denmark, which lies remoter from the Sun,  
With as brisk Flames, we find, as Britain burn:  
Thou first didst fire the Prince's Heart,  
Then to Her Breast the Message straight impart;  
He owned thy Power, and never stayed,  
But thy Godship soon obeyed:  
Led by thy Light through rolling Seas he moved  
To meet his Royal Love.  
He feared no Rocks that lay between,  
So that within her Breast none could be seen.  
He feared not what from Seas and Winds could come,  
So that her Breath did not pronounce his fatal Doom.  
Thus Vesta's Flame itself did once maintain  
Through the black Deep, till it the Port did gain,  
Till it at Rome had reached the Sacred Fane.  
Nor did he long expect his Doom,  
He did but Come, and See, and Overcome.  
By Parley and Capitulation  
In ten days space her Virgin Fort he won.  
An easier Conquest Jove could never boast,  
No Mistress ever stood him in less cost,  
When Cloister'd Danae he would gain,  
To bribe her Keepers he was fain;  
With Gold his Godship then was forced to buy  
New Morsels and Supplies for his Almighty Luxury.   

II.  
Pardon, Blessed Pair, these rude unpolisht Lines,  
With which a Loyal Muse would now approach your Shrines;  
Like some young Virgin, who when half undressed,  
(Around her loosely cast her Vest)  
Into the Crowd with eager steps does go  
To gaze and wonder at the pompous Show.  
Welcome, Great Prince, to our Once happy Shore  
(For this one time, dear Land, thy pardon I implore)  
For many years the Pride of all the Flood,  
The Envy of the Western World it stood;  
In this our Isle, as once of Rhodes was said,  
The Sun was never thought to hid his Head:  
Antiquity with all its searching eyes,  
Could never fancy or devise,  
That once in Egypt, or in Albion Clouds could rise.  
Let Fortunate or Happy now no longer be its name,  
But style it henceforth Europe's shame:  
As in Greek Story, we of countries' read,  
That for their Sins have often changed their Breed;  
Of Men or Manners, so, no more appears,  
But all are here transformed to Lions, Dogs and Bears   

III.  
But the Mistaken World may fancy yet  
That Happiness here keeps her peaceful Seat,  
Who see our thronged Streets still ebb and flow  
With Waves of people crowding to and fro;  
Who with such artful beauty and surprise  
See all our Palaces and Temples rise,  
Who see our Navies daily blow the Main,  
With a full Harvest blest of dearbought gain;  
Some freighted with the Golden Spoils o'th' West,  
Some with the shining Entrails of the East:  
So a poor Swain viewing a Tyrant's state,  
With secret envy does applaud his fate,  
But yet ne'er learns to prise his own dear peaceful Rest,  
Nor sees those inward flames that wrack the gaudy Pageant's Breast.  
Thus Aetna to the distant Sailors fight.  
Shows with a Top that's verdant, flourishing and bright,  
But yet within its burning Womb contains  
Nothing but Brimstone, Lime, and scorching sulphurous Veins.   

iv  
Yet from these Mists, Great Sir, that darken all the Air  
A sudden Joy does dart, and scatter our despair,  
When thus by you a way we opened find  
How the Fates may still be kind,  
How by your Royal Progeny  
We and our Sons may ever happy be.  
So have I seen a kind auspicious Star  
Shine forth, and guide the wand'ring Traveller,  
While all else stood with thickest Night beset,  
This sparkled like a Diamond set in Jet.  
So from two warring Clouds black teeming Womb  
Oft have I seen the frisking Lightning come,  
And trembling run o'er all the Azure way,  
And with its Light create a short-lived Day.  
Th'unruly Many now shall cease to rage,  
Or ever more disturb the Age.  
No more shall Schism, and bold Anarchy  
Among our English Manufactures numbered be;  
Pale Faction now shall hang its drooping head,  
It shall be through the World expressed  
That Oracles are once more ceased,  
That the Old Cause, the mighty Pan is dead.  
These cursed heart-burnings and illboding Flames  
Shall hence be exorcised by your Illustrious Name,  
As Culinary Fire,  
In the Sun's beams does lose its force; and straight expire.  
The giddy Rabble, and the Beasts of Prey,  
Shall by your Nuptial Fires be scared away,  
As men in Africa do Bonfires rear,  
To keep 'em from the Lion and the Savage Bear.  
Then let our British Annals talk no more  
Of one St. George, his Deeds, and wondrous Power,  
This is the Man; him the Great ORDER shall  
In future times their Saint and Patron call,  
And what before was Legend, Fable, Lie,  
Shall pass for current and Authentic History.    

London, Printed for Walter Davis. 1683.